


Choices

by hawkeyeee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, SHIELD, im bad at tagging, red room mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyeee/pseuds/hawkeyeee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had made a different call, and now he was paying the price. She was sitting in an interrogation room, paying that same price.</p>
<p>Or the obligatory Clintasha fic with fluff, angst, and an awful lot of snuggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I've uploaded on here, so pelase go easy on me while I figure out how to format stuff.

He had made a different call, and now he was paying the price. She was sitting in an interrogation room, paying that same price.

Hill was yelling at him, though he only picked up on a few words here and there. "You should have... she never... just shot her...." He wasn't listening, his mind elsewhere, wondering what it was that made him disobey.

_He crouched on a roof, on the opposite side of the parapet, watching her talk to the bearded man wearing a hat, in Russian. Great. Out of all the languages he could speak relatively okay, Russian was one he had a hard time with. Supposedly, she spoke numerous languages, hopefully including English._

_He only needed him to walk away, then he could shoot. Hopefully it would be enough to kill. Wait. The man slapped her across the face, and he watched as she tackled the man. It seemed one minute she was perfectly peaceful, the next standing over the man's body._

_She would be a good partner, he decided right then and there._

_A black car drove up to her. Four men got out, and attempted to push her in. He drew his bow. Breathed in, back tensed, breathed out, then fired. He hit one man, then repeated the process to hit another. She had taken down the rest._

_He climbed down the fire escape ladder, knowing she was watching his every move. He jumped the last 10 feet, then turned and saw her walking away._

_He speed-walked to catch up to her, then whispered, "Follow me." He led her around the block, and down an alley. He opened a blue door, and gestured for her to come in. She paused, considering her options, then walked in._

_He reached for a phone, and called his boss. "Yes. Extraction. No, one extra. Don't ask." He hung up, and turned to her. "Do you want to stay here and wait for those people back there to wake up and come for you, or do you want to get out of here with me?"_

_She stared at him in awe. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. "I'll go with you."_

A man named Coulson was interrogating her. "So, Natalia, what do you do for a living?" He asked, giving what would seem a sincere smile to anyone who wasn't a well-trained spy. "I'm one of 28 young Soviet ballerinas," She answered, her voice flat. She believed it at least half the time, so why wouldn't he?

"Do you know why you’re still alive?" He wrote down a few words, _Believes in ballet_.

"I'm assuming it's because you wanted to ask me these questions." Still monotone. She decided right then to be honest. Better to stay alive than to regret coming in the first place. "Though, you weren't planning on it."

"You're half correct." Coulson smiled, this time for real. "Our best agent seems to think you could do well here. We do want to ask you these questions before then, though."

"Well, let's get it over with, then." She answered the remaining questions as abruptly as she could, not wanting them to know too much about her.

He was just about on his last straw with Hill, who was still rambling, "If you had just shot her, like planned, we wouldn't have a Black Widow in our headquarters. We wouldn't nee-"

"She'll be our best agent. She barely knows what she's done these past years. I've read the file, multiple times. She was more than probably brainwashed. Chances are, it wasn't really her who killed all those people." He wasn't done. "Trust me, she'll do great with us."

"Fine, Clint. She'll stay here for now. But the moment she steps out of line, she's going in The Fridge."


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh okay I already had this done so here ya go!

It was five months later. Their first mission together, her first mission at all, would begin in the morning.

He woke sharply to another body climbing into his bed. "Nat?" He murmured, making sure it was just her, not someone trying to kill him.

"Yes." She had started to express a bit more emotion when talking, but not much. A few weeks earlier, she had started the habit of climbing into his bed around 2 am every morning. She had said one word the first night, "Nightmares."

He was thankful that she was able to trust him this much now, able to sleep next to him. He didn't dare touch her, didn't want to reverse the process they'd made. He didn't need to ask if she was ready for the mission, cause he already knew she was. He rolled over onto his belly, and fell back asleep, until the alarm woke both of them up at 6.

He climbed out of bed and grabbed his clothes from where he'd set them on his dresser the night before. "Natasha," He used the name she'd requested, "Wake up, the plane leaves in an hour." He set one hand on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't take it poorly.

"I'm awake," she spoke softly, placing her hand on top of his. "Thought you were too afraid to touch me," she smiled softly.

He grunted in response, silently saying with his expression that he had just been giving her time. She nodded slightly, and climbed out of bed, wearing some loose pajamas they had bought together for her. She walked to her room in the apartment SHIELD had provided, and put on her black catsuit, the one with the emblem on her shoulder.

During that time, he got his own clothes on, and met her in the kitchen, grabbing a Pop-Tart out of the box on the counter. Neither of them liked to cook, so they just got SHIELD to deliver Pop-Tarts and microwavable meals to their doorstep.

He handed Natasha her coat, and they stepped out the door and waited for their car to SHIELD headquarters. She was more favorable around there since beating everyone she'd sparred with so far. Even Hill had let up on Clint a little.

"Clint," Natasha spoke quietly, "Where're we going?" She hadn't yet been told where their mission was, as Fury was afraid she might still have some communication with her previous workplace.

"Paris." He said as the car pulled over to let them in. "Just need to grab an 084, then we're out."

He had taught her all the codes SHIELD commonly used.

They spent the ride in silent, and when they got to the headquarters, walked in silent. Once on the plane, she fell asleep with her red curls resting on Clint's shoulder. A few hours later, he rested his head on top of hers and slept as well.

When they landed in Paris, they both sat up and looked at each other sheepishly. "Sorry," both said nearly at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

They had gotten the 084. They got to the extraction point in time. Not necessarily safely, nor uninjured, but they got there.

Once they were back in New York, and after the debrief, the two agents went back to their apartment and had a lazy day. Natasha's shoulder was bandaged where she had gotten shot, and Clint's broken ankle was in one of those boot things.

So, they set their painkillers on the coffee table and sat down to watch some FRIENDS. It was one of Clint's personal claims to fame that he owned VHS tapes of every episode ever..

After two episodes, they were leaning on each other. After four, Clint had fallen asleep with his head in Natasha's lap. After two more, he woke up, but left his head there. It was comfy, who could blame him? She hadn't beaten him up yet, so all was probably okay. In fact, she rubbed his head softly, running her hands through his blonde hair.

Once he had put in the next tape and sat back down on the couch, Clint wrapped one arm around Natasha. "Is this okay?" He asked softly.

"I suppose so," she replied, leaning into him and wrapping his other arm around her, being careful not to touch her shoulder.

"Y'know, maybe we should just sleep in here tonight," He suggested, his Midwest accent coming through. "Too much trouble to get comfortable in a bed." She nodded against his chest, and drifted off two episodes later. Clint wanted to keep watching, but didn't feel like waking her up to put in the next tape, so he fell asleep as well.

In the morning, Natasha woke suddenly, slightly jumpy, what with arms wrapped around her. She recognized Clint's smell and immediately relaxed, rubbing his hand gently until he woke as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, I couldn't think of anything to add without it taking away from the cute snuggles.


End file.
